


For I am dying of such love (or so it seems to me)

by Sapphicsarah



Category: Holby City
Genre: 5 Times, AU, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Tropes, more like frenemies, not really enemies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-02-23 06:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13184343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphicsarah/pseuds/Sapphicsarah
Summary: Bernie and Marcus divorced a year ago, and she recently decided to leave the army to be near her kids. Alex and her amicably split up and now Bernie is taking a job at the new trauma unit on AAU. Her new boss, Serena Campbell, is terrifying.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another AU! Shocking! Also, nobody is dead. Everybody is alive and everybody is gay.

Bernie Wolfe is running late, and yet decides to stop at the little coffee shop on the first floor of the hospital. Her first meeting with the staff on AAU started two minutes ago, and she’s still in line, waiting. She shifts her weight back and forth and has to stop herself from tapping her foot. She glances at her phone again, checking the time, and huffs when she sees its now gone 09:04. Four minutes late, and on her first day too. Not a great way to make a first impression.

Since leaving the army, being on time hasn’t been Bernie’s strong point. As soon as the routine of the military left her, so too did her internal clock to get places on time. She’s perpetually late, her hair always a little windswept, and her body always under caffeinated. There hadn’t been time to start the coffee maker this morning, having slept late and dashed about her flat, gathering her clothes and bits before heading out the door in a frenzy.

But she’d made it to the hospital in time, having driven a little too quickly through the city in her little car. Zipping through and arriving with exactly five minutes to spare. Or so she thought.

The service at Pulses is slow, but she’s dying for that latte, and keeps waiting, hoping it will appear in the next thirty seconds. She could claim she got lost in the winding corridors of the hospital, or say there was traffic. But she’s staying until she gets that coffee. She’s already late in any case. Bernie is next in line to receive her drink when the woman in front of her holds up the little takeaway cup and demands to see the manager. Bernie nearly groans in frustration. _Not now please, I’m late!_

A petrified manager steps forward and the woman calmly and coolly states that the drink she was given was not what she ordered. The trembling manager stammers and trips as she hastily returns to the machine and thrusts a new, perfectly made drink into the waiting hands of the inpatient woman.

“Thank you,” she says in a clipped tone, then turns on her heels and almost walks straight into Bernie.

 _Fuck_ , Bernie thinks.  _You're absolutely stunning._

She has brown eyes that are sparkling, her top is a deep blue, and her face is so close to Bernie’s that for a moment Bernie thinks she can feel the other woman’s breath. But the moment passes, and as they both step away from one another, Bernie sees that the woman has lovely eyebrows. Perfect eyebrows in fact, and both perfect eyebrows are raised, as if unimpressed and simultaneously annoyed by the sight of Bernie. She's confused by the woman's annoyance, until Bernie realizes, with a sinking feeling, that she had in fact actually said the words out loud. She'd said  “Fuck, you're absolutely stunning,” right to this woman's beautiful face. She feels herself blush bright red and looks away, mumbling a soft apology before grabbing her latte and stalking away toward the lifts. She enters the first one that opens, punches the number for AAU and prays she never sees the woman again.

She walks down the corridor and opens the door to AAU, using her brand new badge from security, another stop that had made her not just late, but extraordinarily late. She finds someone who is kind enough to point her in the direction, meets Fletch, who leads her to the locker room and mentions that they're running a bit behind themselves. She quickly changes into the provided scrubs and hopes she will be able to sneak into the morning meeting unnoticed. These are typically run-of-the-mill meetings, daily admin stuff and patient assignments, so it’s not the end of the world to have missed the first few minutes, she reminds herself. And it seems to still be going on, long after it should have ended. 

However, the second she steps onto the ward, there is an audible silence. The gathered staff, parts like The Red Sea and there, at the front, is a woman, wearing a blouse in a very familiar shade of blue. Her bright red lips that were previously smiling immediately change into a frown. And while the entirety of the staff turns to look at her, coffee in hand, Bernie recognizes that this woman is in fact the woman from downstairs. She also takes this important moment to audibly gasp, and then swears under her breath for the second time that day.

“Bullocks.”

The staff, seemingly nonplussed, collectively turn their heads to look back at the other woman. She glances down at a notepad, and then reaches for her own coffee cup before taking a slow sip, as the staff on AAU waits with bated breath for their leader to react to such an intrusion.

“Miss Wolfe, is it? Thank you for joining us.”

Bernie clears her throat, and manages to say, "Thank you. It’s good to be here.” She looks around and then back at the woman who must be Serena Campbell.

Her new boss.

The shock is a little much, and Bernie's not too sure if they wanted a speech, but her brain is still uncaffeinated and she feels a little breathless when Serena keeps looking at her. And then Serena is looking back at the nurses and other young doctors. She's talking about discharges and turnovers, and elective surgeries to be in the smaller theatre, with the main theatre being left opened for any incoming trauma. The trauma bay is why Bernie was so heavily recruited by Henrik Hanssen. She's a trauma specialist who no longer has an outlet for her particular set of skills. And Serena Campbell was a woman with a keen eye for business who saw a need and built a trauma unit, hoping to find a co-lead somewhere along the way. It was an "if you build it they will come" kind of mentality, built on precise risk analysis and hope, and Bernie had been intrigued by the pitch. After all, the hospital was close to her children and she needed a job. So she'd said yes, and here she is, face to face with a legend. And Bernie had made a fool of herself not once, but twice. Serena clears her throat and turns her eyes directly to Bernie, who had definitely stopped listening once she'd noticed Serena's collar bones. Serena seems to pick up on Bernie's apparent disinterest in the conversation, and quirks her eyebrows again. Bernie suddenly and desperately hopes the floor will open up and swallow her whole. No such luck though.

“Right,” Serena exclaims, “let’s get the day started, shall we?”

The crowd disperses, and Bernie follows Raf to the trauma bay and familiarizes herself with the supplies and equipment. She meets the F1's, and can't help but think of all the young cadets she's trained over the years.  The Red phone rings once and she jumps right in. For a moment, she notices Serena standing in the window of her office, watching. It feels like some sort of test, so Bernie barks orders and leads her new team. She praises Morven at the end of it, and isn't quite sure what to do with herself when she finds herself being hugged. Morven's smile is infectious and Bernie feels herself smile back. It's not until she's about to leave for the day that Bernie realizes she should have an office. Or at least a desk.

Raf tells her she's sharing an office.

With Serena.

"Something to tackle tomorrow, I think," Bernie tells Raf and Fletch, who share a knowing smile. Serena Campbell's icy, yet universally renowned reputation precedes her, and they're understanding to say the least. They must know Serena Campbell better than anyone, having worked with her for years. 

Bernie walks to the ward doors and goes to change back into her street clothes. The normal change of shift happened a few minutes ago, so the locker room is completely empty when Bernie pushes through the double doors. She's slightly relieved, having forgotten how draining it is to be with people for twelve hours straight. She sits down on the wooden bench and suddenly feels very tired. She changes slowly, puts on her street shoes, pulls her short hair back into a ponytail, and goes to stand by the sinks, splashing her face with some cold water. She squints at herself in the mirror.

Starting a new job at 50 should be terrifying, but if this shift proved anything its that trauma here will be essentially the same as field medicine. A broken bone is a broken bone, whether it be in the desert of the Middle East or in the rain-drenched streets of Holby. But Serena Campbell, with her sparkling eyes and perfect eyebrows had not been something Bernie expected. _Shake it off soldier_ , she tells herself. Being attracted to her new boss is not something she needs. She needs this job to pay the bills, and she plans to fly under the radar, do her job, and stay on the straight and narrow. No pun intended.

Armed with that thought, Bernie takes a deep breath, looks at herself one more time, nods, and heads home. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention this is also a "Five times they had coffee" fic.

After that first meeting, Bernie thinks it can only get better, that the only place to go is up. Things just can’t get any worse.

Things get worse.

Things escalate because Serena Campbell is not just pretty and devastatingly wonderful to look at, she’s also ridiculously good at her job. And Bernie’s little (not so little) hint of attraction skyrockets itself right into the stratosphere of Planet Crushtown.

The staff at least have been very accommodating, almost immediately welcoming her into the fold. They’re almost like a little family, a band of people who see more of each other than they do their actual families. Raf and Fletch are thick as thieves, welcoming and kind. They invite Bernie out for drinks as often as they can, learning after one unfortunate bet, that Bernie can drink them all under the table. Morven seems besotted with Bernie, and even more besotted with the affect Bernie seems to have on Serena.

Which is something Bernie had not expected, nor has she really seen any evidence of. But apparently, according to Morven, Serena has softened since Bernie's arrival on the ward. She’s still terrifying and a sight to behold when she has a scalpel in her hand, but she's changed somehow. Of course Bernie can’t speak to this, having not known what things were like before, but she finds she’s proud to be Serena’s co-lead, mystical softening abilities and all.

And Serena is good to work with, if not a little distant. She's never had a personal conversation with Bernie, despite them sharing an office for the better part of four months. The only hints Bernie gets are the phone calls she briefly overhears at change of shift, and snippets of information she hears at Albie's. Bernie knows Serena has a nephew, Jason. He can be difficult but charming and Bernie has only met him once. He called her a pigeon, and Bernie had tried not to be put out by it. Other people had much better birds, but he was adamant that she was, in fact, a pigeon. 

Morven told her about Elinor. A drug habit that spanned a few years, and an overdose ending with Elinor going to rehab. She's clean, and the relationship between her and Serena is getting better. Bernie can't even imagine what that must have been like. Doesn't even know what she would have done if it had been Cameron or Charlotte. She knows it still must be tough on Serena, and Bernie had noticed the little photograph of Elinor in a school uniform that sits on Serena's desk, right next to a snapshot of Jason. Bernie can tell Serena loves them both, especially when she sees Serena with Jason. She's quieter, and explains things to him in a kind voice that's not patronizing or condescending. It makes Serena even more interesting, to see her like that. 

She's never like that with Bernie. Despite Bernie's best efforts, they don't ever seem to connect. Whenever they operate together, the theatre is very quiet. There's no lighthearted banter, like when Serena and Raf are together. And no talk of footy, like when Fletch is assisting Bernie. Just quiet efficiency and ABBA quietly playing in the background. 

But Bernie would die for Serena, or "Miss Campbell", as she refers to her out loud. The feeling isn't Bernie being overly romantic or even dramatic. She'd spent a better part of her life being ready to die for her comrades and colleagues in the army. It's just that, Miss Campbell is adored by her staff, as well as universally feared. She's not otherworldly, and makes no effort to appear so. She just simply is something that always seems a little out of reach for the mere mortals.

Bernie desperately tries to get Serena to like her. It doesn't go well. 

She starts by deferring the more interesting procedures to Serena, as a show of respect. But Serena accuses her of trying to get out of work. 

"No... I-", Bernie stammers as they stand in their office, the door firmly shut. "I just thought you'd be interested in the case. It's highly unusual." 

"Yes," Serena says coldly. "But trauma is your specialty and its a great teaching opportunity. This is why you're here Miss Wolfe. Or have you grown bored of us already?"

"No!" Bernie nearly shouts. She clears her throat and starts again. "No," she says a little quieter. She sighs when she sees Serena's right eyebrow lift. "It was just a misunderstanding.  I'll put myself on the schedule." She looks down at the ground and tries not to be discouraged by Serena's annoyance. 

"Thank you," Serena says curtly, already walking out of their office and effectively ending the conversation. "So glad we could clear that up." 

And when they both end up in Albie's at the end of another shift, Serena never talks to her. They're usually with their staff. Raf and Fletch, Morven and Dom and sometimes Sasha. It's joyful and Bernie doesn't ever feel like their boss when they're here. At Albie's she's just another member of the team. She's mid giggle at some filthy joke Fletch just told her when Serena swans in like some queen entering her court. It's summer and Serena is wearing one of those flowy blouses she wears that make her seem like she's floating through the world. Bernie can't help but stare, until Dom nudges her and snaps her out of it. 

"Steady on," he grins. 

"Sorry?" Bernie attempts to feign confusion but Dom just continues to grin that knowing grin and Bernie shakes her head before Morven comes over with another whiskey. _Ah yes, whiskey. I love whiskey._  

"Thank you," she murmurs to Morven. Morven smiles, and Bernie has to focus on not dropping her precious drink when Serena comes over to join them. 

"Mind if I join in?" she asks in that soft velvety voice that does things to Bernie. In her reconnaissance (absolutely not stalking) Bernie had learned that Serena can sing. She'd probably die if Serena ever sang to her. 

The next half hour is pure torture. Dom keeps trying to get her to talk, distracting her and keeping her engaged in the conversation. Because when Bernie isn't doing something she just ends up looking across the group at her co-lead lounging in an arm chair. It's a bad habit Bernie had developed over the last few months: watching Serena. She catches herself doing it while she's supposed to be doing paperwork and Serena is walking around the ward, being all distracting. Or when they're operating together, and Serena comes across a difficult section of the procedure. Bernie loves to see her improvise, and notices Serena is getting better at the trauma cases, branching out from her vascular comfort zone. She'll be spectacular in no time, and Bernie feels incredibly proud to have been a witness to it.

The staring (not pining, as Dom says) is at its worst when they're both in the office, working quietly. Serena almost never works while Bernie is doing paperwork, preferring to be on the ward or in theatre. Bernie suspects its from having her own office for so long, and having it be a difficult adjustment to sharing the space that used to be just hers. But every now and then its unavoidable, and they end up in each other's company for an hour or two. Bernie inevitably gets distracted by Serena's neck, and Serena will look up and see her looking.

"What?" she asks. 

"Nothing," Bernie says quickly. "Just zoning out." 

"Well zone out somewhere else Miss Wolfe, some of us actually value paperwork." 

Bernie blushes and stares at her charts for a few minutes, before being able to actually read another word. 

It's during one of those times, when they're both in the office, that it happens. The red phone rings at 15:00, halfway through the afternoon, when the staff least expects it. It's an RTC and its the worst Bernie has seen since starting on AAU. It's chaotic and fast-paced in the trauma bay, and the driver of the car that was hit is a young woman, with burns on her arms, a broken leg, and one punctured lung. They wheel her into theatre as fast as they can, and Bernie and Serena scrub quietly as Fletch and Morven set up the room. Bernie observes Serena out of the corner of her eye, and watches Serena watch the patient. Something's different this time, and Serena doesn't even ask for music when she begins. They don't even put on ABBA. 

Serena is tense throughout the entire surgery. They fix the lung and try to stabilize as much as they can. The broken femur can be fixed tomorrow, and the burns will be addressed in the coming weeks. She's alive, and that's all they can do for now. Bernie watches Serena, and worries. 

Serena was tense during the procedure, which is not altogether unusual, since Serena is always tense. But Bernie realizes, sometime during the second hour, that something's wrong. Serena had been nearly silent the two hours since they started, and Bernie had thought it was because of the severity of the case. But she realizes, as they begin to close, that Serena seems frightened. Bernie doesn't know what to do. Normally, when they're done and closing, Serena will leave and let Bernie finish the suturing. This time Serena lingers, sutures until the final stitch is done, then helps the nurse move the patient onto the stretcher, then stands aside as they wheel her out to the ward. Bernie watches her and tries to understand. 

The last of the staff filters out one by one, until Serena and Bernie are left standing alone. After a minute, Serena is still standing there, looking lost in her own operating theatre. 

"What is it?" Bernie whispers, after she gathers the courage to open her mouth. 

Serena doesn't answer, just keeps looking at the doors the patient had vanished behind. She looks like she's waiting for something, or someone. 

"Miss Campbell?" She tries again, and steps a little closer, hoping not to startle her. 

Serena seems shaken out of whatever trance she was in, and looks surprised to find Bernie standing next to her, one hand hovering near her left right elbow. Bernie had instinctively reached out to touch her, but rethinks that tactic, and brings her hand back down to her side. Bernie's stomach plummets when she sees tears in Serena's eyes. She realizes whats happened as soon as she sees Serena's desperation and barely masked terror, the cruel anxiousness that only another mother could recognize. Bernie chooses her next words carefully, takes a deep breath, and whispers. 

"It wasn't Elinor, Serena." 

Serena keeps looking at her, and her lip begins to quiver, and Bernie knows she's really upset because she didn't even bristle at Bernie calling her 'Serena', rather than 'Miss Campbell.' Bernie takes in another deep breath. 

"It looked like her," Bernie murmurs kindly. "But it wasn't her."

Serena nods, and lets a tear fall. Bernie takes another step, still unsure what to do. She's never been good with other people crying, tends to just leave the room. But she needs to be here, wants to be here. Serena sniffles, and still seems lost, unable to decide what to do next. So Bernie does what any soldier would do. She guides Serena back to familiar territory, guides her, with one hand hovering over the small of her back. She walks Serena through the doors to the ward, and then quietly opens the door to their office. She walks Serena to her chair, and watches her collapse into it, exhausted and emotionally drained. 

"I'll be right back," she whispers, after a moment. She waits to leave until after Serena nods, just so she knows Serena heard her. 

She goes to Pulses, buys Serena's correct order, smiling fondly at the memory of how they met. Rushes back up the stairs, unwilling to wait for the lift. She carries the drink with infinite care, cradling it between her hands until she gently places it on Serena's desk. Serena just stares at it, and Bernie pulls one of the guest chairs up, until she's sitting next to Serena. 

"It's your order from Pulses," Bernie explains, and waits for Serena to pick it up. 

She hesitates, then slowly reaches out, and holds it gingerly between shaking hands. Bernie suddenly remembers that pep talks were never her forte. So she just sits, and watches Serena, just like she always does. She watches Serena sip slowly, until the drink is nearly half empty. 

"Thank you," Serena murmurs, still not able to meet Bernie's eyes. She's mesmerized by the photograph of Elinor on her desk. 

"It's no trouble," Bernie says, waving her hand, trying to make the whole situation less charged. 

"Must be a shock," Serena huffs, "to see the Ice Queen with her defenses down." Her voice is a little colder now, and she sits up a little straighter in her chair. Bernie knows Serena is sounding the retreat, closing the gates, raising the bridge, jumping into hyperspace and leaving all this nasty vulnerability behind. Bernie understands.

"We don't really call you that, you know. Ice Queen, I mean." 

Serena finally looks at her, and Bernie can't help but think how tired she looks. She wishes she could do something more than just bring her coffee. She wishes she could do something, anything, to somehow relieve the burden. Serena always seems six feet tall, but right now she looks rather small, with tear tracks on her face and a tissue all scrunched up in her fist. 

"Everyone here loves you," Bernie reassures. "When I started here all they did was talk about how great you were, how inspiring and exciting it was to get to learn from you." 

Serena rolls her eyes, but Bernie can see a hint of a smile. Bernie smiles back. 

"And if it makes you feel better, I promise not to tell anyone about all this. It stays between us." 

Serena nods after a moment. "Thank you, Miss Wolfe. I'd appreciate that." She clears her throat, and sniffles. 

"Of course," Bernie murmurs, as she reaches out and extends her pinky finger. 

 Serena looks at her, and her face couldn't be more confused than if Bernie had chopped off her own hand and offered it on a silver platter. 

"Oh," Bernie falters, "my kids, well my kids and I,- well, we pinky promise. Every time we promise something to each other."

Serena keeps staring. 

"It's Wolfe Family tradition." 

Serena looks down at Bernie's smallest finger. 

"It's binding," Bernie finishes lamely, still holding out her finger. 

"Right," Serena says, both hands still firmly grasping her coffee cup. 

Bernie swallows, and tries to swallow her pride, and hopes the ground will swallow her too, as she slowly begins to lower her hand.

But then, a miracle happens. Serena reaches out, and for a few seconds, links her pinky with Bernie's. 

"Promise accepted, Miss Wolfe." 

Bernie looks for a hint of sarcasm, listens for that all-too familiar dismissive tone. Instead its just Serena, sitting quietly, accepting the gauntlet of the most sacred pinky promise. And in that moment, those few treasured seconds when their hands are touching, Bernie realizes that Serena, Ice Queen of AAU, might actually like her back. 

"Now get back to work," Serena commands. 

Bernie scurries out the door and pretends not to see Serena's lips turn up in a small smile as she takes another sip of coffee. 


	3. Chapter 3

It’s six in the morning on Bernie’s day off, so Bernie does what she always does when she has the time; she goes for a run. Being a civilian after nearly 20 years in the military can lead to a certain, softening. And although that comes with perks like lie ins and donuts and not having to do push ups, running has always seemed to help her sort things out. 

It’s bloody cold though, and the sun is just rising when she circles back to her flat after eight freezing kilometers. She puts the kettle on, takes off her trainers, and starts a bath. Baths in the morning are weird, or so Charlotte tells her. But it helps her relax, lets her feel a little pampered, or as pampered as Bernie Wolfe can get.

She likes to use the sparkly pink things that Charlotte got her as a gag gift for her 50th birthday. A bath explosion or something? Anyway, it's sparkly and pink and normally Bernie doesn’t like the fuss, but her therapist pointed out that the first thing to go haywire when she’s feeling off is her hygiene. She doesn’t brush her teeth or brush her hair, forgets to shower, and just feels… sad.

It’s nothing new, probably something that's always been there. She’s just finally had the courage to face it. Feeling low every now and again is normal, but forgetting to take care of oneself is not. So her therapist had said to make things fun, use the pink sparkly ball thing, buy a charcoal face mask, take baths in the morning. Go wild.  

The thing is, it helps. She feels smooth and warm and even lights a candle? Who is she? She’s someone who takes baths in the morning and lets herself feel the luxury of warm water on a cold British morning in September. And it makes her feel a little better.

When she gets out of the bath she makes sure to text Marcus ideas for Cameron’s birthday. He’s away and at school and probably doesn’t care what they get him, but Bernie hadn’t been around for many birthdays, and wants to make the most of it. She and Marcus had become friends since the divorce. Their relationship was better than it had been in years, having been almost strangers during the last eighteen months of their marriage. Also, Bernie was gay, which had come as a shock. Telling Marcus she was in love with someone else was the most courageous thing she had ever done, and it had saved them. She was glad to have him back in her life as a friend and co-parent. 

She and Alex were happy for a time. However, Alex didn’t want to be a stepmother. Bernie had told Alex over and over that she didn’t expect Alex to be a stepmother to her children. But her kids would always be a part of their lives, and after a near miss with an IED, Bernie had decided to leave the army. The decision tore them apart, and Alex had felt abandoned. They decided to split up soon after. It was the right thing to do and Bernie had returned to England, single and not really ready to mingle. Two months later she met Serena Campbell, and the rest is history.  

Because Bernie is A Goner, truly and ridiculously head over heels for her boss. Its a disaster. Or at least a series of small disasters, contributing to the entire disastrous situation.

For example, there was the time Raf and Bernie had been walking down the corridor, discussing  a patient. They do this a lot, walk and talk, and normally Bernie can handle doing both at once. But Serena walked by them going the opposite way, and she had looked extra pretty that day and her shirt was lower than normal and Bernie had (totally by accident) looked down and had gotten a little distracted. She tripped and nearly fell into the bins, eventually landing on the corridor floor. She sat there for a minute, literally floored, and then looked up to see Raf looking down at her, utter confusion all over his face.

And then there was the time Bernie had gone to observe Serena in theatre. They check up on each other every now and then, especially when one of them gets caught up in a long case. Serena will stand by the window and talk to Bernie through the intercom. It’s mostly just updates on patients or asking if Bernie needs anything before Serena goes home. Professional and co-lead courtesy, nothing more.

One day Bernie checks up on Serena, and some kind of 80’s disco is playing (probably ABBA, Bernie has no way of knowing), and Serena is singing along and Bernie just stands there, rooted to the spot. When the song ends and Serena stops singing, the theatre is quiet, and Bernie sighs very loudly. Bernie sighs because Serena is in her element, looks bloody gorgeous, and can sing to boot. Bernie hears herself sigh.

Wait. 

Bernie heard herself sigh?

Bernie heard herself sigh because the bloody intercom was on the whole time. The entire theatre heard that bloody sigh and Bernie is suddenly looking directly into Serena’s beautiful brown eyes.

“Can I help you Miss Wolfe?” Serena asks, before she turns back to the job at hand.

Bernie clears her throat, and resists the urge to just bolt without responding. That would look worse right?

“No, Miss Campbell, just wanted to know if you needed anything?” That sounded normal, if only a bit strained. “I’m just about to head home.”

“We’re all fine in here Miss Wolfe, thank you very much.” It’s a dismissal if Bernie ever heard one, and she runs, hoping everyone will just forget the whole thing ever happened.

And if the sighing and general heart-eyes gazing wasn’t bad enough, it was nothing compared to the incident Dom refers to fondly as “Coffeegate.”  

It was in the break room, toward the end of a long shift, and everyone was there. Bernie doesn’t know how everyone was there, since someone had to be with the patients, but it seemed like everyone was there. Fletch was telling some story about his kids and Serena and Bernie were sitting at the little table against the wall, drinking coffee. It was late and Bernie was tired and something Fletch said made her laugh. She can’t remember what it was, but it was funny. And Bernie threw her head back and honked, and knocked over her cup of coffee, spilling it everywhere.

The black liquid spilled across the table, over outdated magazines, napkins and all, seeping everywhere. Until it poured over the edge of the table and all over Serena’s lap. Bernie sprang up, grabbed a cloth and attempted to pat it dry, murmuring “sorry” over and over again. It was only after about ten seconds of patting action that she realized she was almost on top of Serena, straddling her lap, trying to pat her dry. Bernie went still, and slowly looked up at Serena. 

Serena's face was flushed red with embarrassment, and her eyes were darker than Bernie had ever seen them. Serena cleared her throat, slowly pushed her chair back far enough so that she was clear of Bernie. Their entire staff was silent, and Bernie swore everyone could hear the roar of her heartbeat. Serena stood up and looked down at her ruined trousers. 

“Thank you Miss Wolfe, but I think you’ve done quite enough.” She spun around and disappeared through the door, no doubt to clean up. Or begin plotting Bernie’s murder.

Dom had made the most of it, teasing her when she fled to the roof a few minutes later. 

“You know the whole ward was in that staff room just now when you sat in Miss Campbell’s lap right? I heard it from three different sources already”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Bernie scoffs, looking out over the city as the sun sets. "It was an accident," she huffs quietly. 

Dom is looking at her, and Bernie feels him reading everything. It should be disconcerting, to be so transparent to someone she’s only known for six months. But Dom has always been kind to her, and it's nice to be known, and to have a friend who understands her.

“You’ve got it bad, haven’t you,” he asks softly. His tone is not teasing anymore, and Bernie’s chest tightens at the small hint of pity in his voice.

“Yeah,” Bernie sighs. “I really do.”

...

Bernie knows how important it is for Serena to appear cool and detached. Being a woman in the army means she played the game. She knows what a Boy’s Club medicine can be, and understands the need to be distant at times. And from what Bernie has heard, Serena’s time at Holby has been no picnic. She was once the heir apparent for the CEO position, but that hadn’t happened. Her ex-husband had shown up some time ago and made her life a misery, and her mother had been suffering from severe dementia before she passed away. Her nephew can be a lot for some people to handle, and her daughter is a recovering addict who was caught doing drugs on hospital grounds. So yeah, Bernie understands the need to keep private life and work separate. She just wishes she would become the exception to Serena's rule. Or at least become Serena’s friend.

Bernie is thinking about Serena on her morning walk, after her morning bath on her day off. It’s not unusual, to be thinking about Serena. She’s just been a little more sappy lately, probably because its autumn and the colors of the trees are changing and she’s a little chilly whenever she falls asleep. It’s a romantic time of year, although any time is romantic when you’re dealing with unrequited infatuation.

Bernie is walking down the street and happens to look up, only to see Serena standing a few yards away, looking into a shop window. Bernie’s heart lurches, and she panics, and does the only thing she can do in this situation. She pops into the nearest shop to hide. Thankfully it's a florists, with lots of big bundles of flowers to crouch behind. Bernie picks up the first bouquet she can get her hands on and hides her face. She hunches over and starts to head further into the shop to avoid being seen through the window.

“Um, can I help you?”

Bernie looks up from her place behind some sort of autumnal arrangement and into the bewildered face of a young shopkeeper.

“Oh, hi!” Bernie continues to move further into the shop, keeping her body close to the ground. “My boss just walked by and I’d rather- I’d just rather not.” Bernie whispers dramatically.

“I understand,” the young florist whispers back. “I’ll keep a sharp eye, shall I?”

“Would you?” Bernie asks, grateful to have found an ally in her time of need.

“Of course,” she whispers back, “but you should know I work on commission.”

Bernie rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’ll buy whatever this is.” She holds up the bouquet of something or other that's in her hand.

The kid nods. “Excellent, now what does she look like?”

“She’s the brunette in the blue trench coat and a red scarf.”

“Oh.”

Bernie looks up sharply. “What do you mean ‘Oh,'" she hisses.

“I think she’s coming into the shop.”

“Do something! Say you’re closed!” Bernie pleads.

“I can’t turn away customers, _my_ boss would kill me!”

Bernie is about to stand up and fight the kid florist and end the shortest allegiance in history when the little gold bell above the shop door jingles.

Serena walks in, turns the corner, and glares.

“Miss Wolfe, are you _following_ me?”

Bernie sputters, nearly dropping the bouquet of flowers. “No! I live here.”

Serena raises her right eyebrow and Bernie falls a little more in love. “I mean I live round the corner. Not here… in the florists.” Besides Albies, she’s never seen Serena outside of work. And never in her own neighborhood. “What are _you_ doing here,” she asks accusingly.

“I’m on my way to meet my daughter, if you must know.” Serena says haughtily. “And then I saw you nosedive into a florists. I was merely ensuring you were safe.”

Bernie finally starts to stand up, since the game is up and she's been found out. When she's at her full height she looks down into Serena’s eyes, never more aware of their slight height difference. “You care about my safety?” She asks without thinking.

She’s a little breathless, and her voice is a little husky, but they’re standing so close. So close that Bernie doesn’t miss the way Serena’s eyes track down to Bernie’s lips as she licks them. The wheels in Bernie's head start spinning. Haughty tone or no, Serena came to check on her, could easily have avoided this whole encounter all together. But she came in. _She’s the one doing the following._

“Well…” Serena says, breaking her gaze from Bernie’s lips. Her eyes track down to the flowers in Bernie’s hands. Bernie looks too, and sees that shes holding a beautiful arrangement of red roses. Of course its roses. “Yes,” Serena murmurs distractedly. “I do care.”

Bernie’s head snaps up, and she looks at Serena who is still looking at the roses.

“Are you buying those for your girlfriend,” Serena asks snidely. Which is a little rude and a little bit of an exaggerated reaction, because no, Bernie doesn’t have a girlfriend. Also, its not Serena’s business. But then Bernie looks at Serena, _really_ looks at her, and Bernie has to stop herself from grinning because Serena Campbell is jealous. Serena Campbell is glaring at Bernie’s flowers like they personally murdered half her family and Serena has to exact revenge. Bernie watches Serena look back up at her with her face guarded and Bernie decides to let herself smile a bit. Because oh yes! Serena Campbell is definitely jealous.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, Serena.” Bernie says softly, and watches Serena's face. And because Bernie is always watching Serena, always studying every microexpression and change in mood, Bernie can see the minute relief that crosses Serena’s face. She watches Serena’s mouth fall open a bit, and Bernie takes a step closer.

“Oh,” Serena whispers.

“Yeah,” Bernie whispers back.

“I thought-”

“You thought wrong.” Bernie smiles, and she thinks Serena is about to smile back when a mobile starts ringing.

Serena tears her eyes away from Bernie’s and fumbles through her pockets before answering the phone.

“Yes darling,” Serena says sweetly into the phone. “I’ll be there in a minute, I just ran into a colleague on the street.”

Bernie watches Serena talk into the phone, and tries not to let disappointment show on her face. The moment, if they were having a moment at all, seems to have passed, and Serena ends the call with a murmured ‘I love you’ and looks back up at Bernie.

“That was Elinor,” she explains. Serena seems a little breathless herself. “I have to go now.”

“Ok,” Bernie says, with a smile.

“Ok,” Serena parrots back uncertainty, before slowly turning away.

“Ok,” says the florist, as soon as Serena is out the door and down the street. “There's definitely a story here and I need to hear it because that is the most dramatic thing I’ve seen in this shop in months.”

“Ok,” Bernie whispers, still looking after Serena and clutching a dozen red roses so hard that some of the petals have already begun to fall to the floor. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO EDITS! WE DIE LIKE MEN!


	4. Chapter 4

September ends and October arrives in a blaze of colour. Oranges and reds and warm browns that shine and shine until they fall to the ground. Everything seems to start over when its autumn. Perhaps it's because school starts again, or because its the harvest, or because its cooler and the evenings are shorter, and the promise of winter lingers in the air. The world seems ready, waiting with bated breath for the crisp air of November.

Personally, Bernie can’t wait for November. Firstly, because Raf and Fletch are hosting a Bonfire Night get together, and they’re calling it “Party Up In Flames”, or so the various flyers declare. The flyers promise classic pub food, a great view of the city’s fireworks, and a whole lot of alcohol. “Remember remember the date: It’s the fifth of November!” is the final line at the bottom, followed by their address. Bernie takes a picture and promises to go after much prodding from Dom.

Secondly, Bernie is looking forward to November because October was a bloody awful month, at least when it came to her schedule. For some reason, Bernie had been put on nights, and normally that was fine, but she had gotten used to Serena’s support during shifts. When Bernie was in the trauma bay, Serena ran the ward. And when Serena was in theatre or teaching, Bernie handled the other duties. But for some reason, they had only had a handful of overlapping days, and on those days their shifts only overlapped by an hour or two.

Her conversations with Serena had been awkward too. Bernie had thought they were making progress, and were at least cordial with one another. Not friends necessary, but friendly co-leads at least. But ever since that day in late September when they ran into each other at the florists, Serena had avoided her. Bernie hadn't noticed at first, had only thought the schedule changes were a coincidence. Slowly but surely, they only worked on different days, and soon after they were never on together. Bernie was eventually transitioned to nights, and Serena took over days. Bernie tried not to be upset about it.

It was getting harder to ignore this _something_ that was between them.

Other people noticed it too, Dom being the most obvious. He was like a little kid in a candy store whenever he saw Bernie and Serena together, which was rare, given their schedules. One day, he had stopped by AAU to talk to Morven about a patient, and spotted Serena giving a handoff to Bernie. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he took a piece of paper off the nurses’s station. He quickly scribbled something down, crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it across the room.

Serena huffed, as the catapulted note flew through the air and hit Bernie square in the face.  Bernie blushed, and snatched up the paper before Serena could read what was certainly an incriminating message.

Serena glared at Dom before turning back to Bernie. “If you’re done playing,” she sighed, “we can continue. I’m tired, and I want to go home Miss Wolfe.”

“Of course, Miss Campbell,” Bernie apologized, and shoved the crushed piece of paper into her scrub pocket. “I’m so sorry, what were you saying?”

She forgot about the note until a few hours later, long after Serena had gone home. It was the middle of the night and Bernie was sitting in her office, and she put her hand in her pocket to look for something  and pulled out the note instead. She slowly unfolded it and smoothed out the creases in the paper and smiled at the message. She was more glad than ever that she’d been the one to snatch it up and not Serena.

“Tell her you love her!” It screamed in Dom’s messy writing. Bless, he meant well.

Bernie sighed and stared across the desk at Serena's chair for a while. Then, she blacked out the message and put it in the bin.

...

Touch starved.

Apparently that is a thing. And Bernie’s got it.

She had never really craved intimacy, having subconsciously tried to avoid it from Marcus. And then with Alex... well, that was all they ever seemed to do. But not seeing Serena was harder than Bernie expected. She savored every little interaction, every email and phone call, every time they saw each other briefly in the corridor. It wasn’t enough.

She craves Serena’s attention, Serena’s voice and Serena's hands, and she craves Serena’s eyes and legs. Bernie dreams of Serena’s smile, and dreams of other things too. She dreams of kissing Serena in theatre, or against a wall, kissing up Serena's neck until she sighs, and pulls Bernie in to kiss her lips.

Bernie feels guilty about the dreams, so guilty that she tells her therapist. Tells her about the yearning and the pining and how she feels positively sick with love. It’s an important conversation, and Bernie hates having it, but she talks about her guilt. Attraction to other women had always been there, but so had guilt. Bernie talks about changing in the toilets while at school, rather than changing in the locker room. She hadn’t wanted to make the other girls nervous. She never wanted to be a monster or a predator, someone who stares at girls when they’re vulnerable. She was none of those things of course, but she still felt guilty sometimes.

Her therapist tells her its internalized homophobia, and society, and her parents, and all these other things that get jumbled up. Bernie still feels guilty because Serena was scared, so scared that she changed their schedules so they wouldn’t have to see each other.  

“You can forgive yourself now,” her therapist murmurs softly. “You don’t have to feel guilty for loving someone, even if they’re a woman. And it's okay to be in love, even if they don’t love you back.” It’s fucking brutal to hear that.

“Just talk to her, Bernie. And hear what she has to say. You never know.”

Bernie tries not to cry.

She also tries not to stare at Serena on the first of November as they sit side by side in Hanssen’s office, with two perfect little white cups of coffee sitting on his desk in front of them. Neither of them drink, and instead listen to him talk. His tone is clipped and Bernie isn’t quite listening until he offers her a secondment in London.

“It won’t be far from your children, and St. Bart’s is looking for a temporary replacement as one of their own is about to go on maternity leave. Interested?”

It would be an excellent move for her career, and she’d be teaching. And it would give Serena time and space. It would be the worst. 

“Can I think about it?” Bernie asks as she takes the offered pamphlet. Its glossy and shiny and boasts cutting edge technology and equipment and Bernie tries to convince herself that some time away won’t be that bad after all.

“Of course,” Hanssen murmurs.

Serena is quiet all the way to the lifts, and Bernie can’t help but be distracted by the way Serena is wringing her hands. It’s a long way down from the tenth floor, and Holby’s notoriously slow lifts are taking forever.

At the eighth floor Serena stops wringing her hands and looks up at the little glowing numbers at the top of the lift doors. She whispers, and at first Bernie isn’t sure she actually said anything.

“Please don’t go.” Her voice is so small and so unlike her that Bernie just stares and doesn’t say anything.

Serena huffs and looks down at her hands, begins picking at some nonexistent thing beneath her nails. “I know I changed your schedule and I’m sorry if I’ve been acting strange its just that-”

At the sixth floor the lift door dings and a nurse from another unit steps on. He nods to them quickly, and seems to pick up on the tension between the two AAU co-leads. He turns around and looks up at the numbers too, as if willing them to go faster. Bernie bets he wishes he took the stairs.

Serena had stepped back into the lift and is a little further behind Bernie, so she has to turn a bit to see her. She’s looking at Bernie and seems on the verge of saying something monumental when the fifth floor dings and the nurse steps out. Rushes out, more like.

The doors don’t even close all the way before Serena steps forward so that they’re face to face. “Please don’t go,” she says softly, and then more firmly, “I don’t want you to go.”

Bernie doesn't understand this change of heart, after nearly a month of avoidance. It’d been torture, and had only solidified Bernie’s feelings. Absence and the heart and growing fonder, or something.  

“I don’t understand, Miss Campbell,” she finally says. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks. What’s changed?” _I deserve an explanation._

Serena starts wringing her hands again, and opens her mouth but the lift is at AAU and they’re stepping out and Serena seems to have lost all her courage. They’re surrounded as soon as they enter the ward, pulled in different directions and back into the fray of work. Bernie doesn’t see her until they’re both in the trauma bay.

Serena had paged her for help, a rare thing. Bernie comes in and sees that its just a very loud young man with a broken ankle. He’s howling and begging for them to let his friend in, saying he has something important to tell her.

“Please Miss Campbell, you have to let me see her!” He’s got a tight grip on Serena's wrist, and his desperation is almost comical. Serena seems quite put out and Bernie has to force herself not to smile.

“As I already told you Mr. Smith, Louisa is on her way up and will be here shortly.”

Bernie watches as Serena rolls her eyes at the patient’s over the top gratitude.

“Oh thank you Miss Campbell, thank you so much!” He finally lets go of her wrist. “I have to tell her before I die.”

“As I said before Mr. Smith, you are _not_ dying. You’ve just broken an ankle.”

“Well I feel like I’m dying.”

“You're really not,” Serena sighs as she sees Bernie approaching.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure,” she says exasperatedly. “Would you like a second opinion?”

He nods vigorously.

“This is Miss Wolfe, my co-lead.” Mister Smith looks up from the stretcher as if Bernie may be his savior come to rescue him from Serena's grouchy bedside manor.

“Miss Wolfe, in your medical opinion, is Mister Smith dying?”

Bernie pauses and tries to put her best “thinking” face on. She bends and squints at the bruised ankle, looks at it from three different angles, writes down a few notes on her pad and hides it quickly as Mister Smith tries to see what she’s written.

“Hmmm”, she hums a few times, until finally she looks up at Serena and is grateful to see a little smile there too. “Well Mister Smith, I can confidently say that you are indeed not dying.”

“Oh thank god,” he gasps. “I can’t die yet, I have to tell Louisa I love her.”

And speak of the sun and it shall shine, because Louisa walks through the door.

“You love me?”

“Of course I do!”

And then the young woman who must be Louisa is nearly on top of Mister Smith and Morven has to try and break them up, because the man does have a badly broken ankle and he will need surgery. Bernie is just smiling at the way Serena glares furiously at the couple snogging on hospital property.  

On the third of November Bernie's schedule is back to normal. No more overnight shifts, no more brief hand offs and passing like ships in the night. Serena even invites her in on an interesting case. 

"Should be fun," Bernie says and winces. The patient is very sick and may be dying and Bernie had called it 'fun.' Serena doesn't seem to mind though, and lets Bernie lead for most of the procedure, listening to her quietly as she explains her own technique. Its just the two of them and Lou, so its very quiet whenever there is a lull in the conversation. About an hour in, Serena clears her throat and murmurs, "That Mister Smith was a funny fellow." 

Bernie smiles at the thought of the two young lovebirds, who eventually got engaged just before Mister Smith was wheeled into theatre. "Yes, he was a little over the top. But genuine, I think." 

After another minute, Serena speaks again. "It's strange, that he was so nervous to tell her that he loved her." 

Bernie tries not to lose focus on the task at hand, but she's almost certain they're not talking about Mister Smith anymore. 

"Perhaps he thought she'd reject him?" Serena guesses, and pointedly doesn't look up from the delicate vessels they're working on. "Or maybe he was worried what people would think," Serena whispers.

Bernie's heart is going like the clappers, because she knows they're not talking about Mister Smith, and she has to tear her eyes away from Serena and her adorable leopard print cap. She takes a breath. "It doesn't matter what people think, Serena.  She loves him too, and that's all that matters." Bernie asks for a suture, still acutely aware of their surroundings. 

It takes a while for Serena to speak again. "Are you sure she loves him too?" Serena asks when they're almost done. 

Bernie pauses and waits until Serena looks up at her. "Pinky promise," Bernie says with a smile that's hidden behind her mask.  

Serena's eyes crinkle up, and Bernie thinks she must be smiling too. They don't say anything else, and the theatre is quiet for the rest of the procedure. ABBA plays quietly in the background. 

...

Its the fourth of November and Bernie is on the roof again. Her shift just ended but she needed to be alone because all she could think about today was that pseudo conversation in theatre. It was Serena's day off and  Bernie had missed her, and she needs fresh air, which is good. And she needs a cigarette, which is not so good. It’s cold and the sun has already set and she’s smoking on the roof, which means Dom will be there in no time.

She hears the door open then slam shut and doesn’t even try to hide the cigarette when he comes over to stand next to her. He silently take the cigarette from her fingertips and take a quick drag of his own before handing it back. It’s a vice but they share it together.

When the cigarette is just a little stub of glowing ember Bernie puts it on the ground and stamps it out.  

She turns to look at Dom and sees him grinning.

“What?”

“Are you still going to Raf and Fletch’s party?”

“Not too sure yet. Why?”

Dom’s smile grows impossibly larger. “I think we should go.”

Bernie sighs. “Why?”

“Miss Campbell texted Fletch she was going thirty five minutes ago.”

“How do you know everything that goes on in this place?”

“I have my ways,” he says mysteriously.

“Sure you do,” she smiles.

“I could be your wing-man. At the party, I mean.”

“Do I need a wing-man?”

Dom raises his eyebrows and just looks at her.

“Right. I need a wingman.”

And just like that Bernie thinks that this party can’t come any sooner, and after that coded conversation in theatre, it won’t be hard to see Serena in a social setting. They’ll just have to get a moment alone together to talk it all out. It's just a party, it will hardly be a crisis.

...

It's a fucking crisis. 

Bernie is horrendously sober and surrounded by her inebriated underlings. Fletchlings are running underfoot, and there are board games being played on nearly every surface of the house. Twister is happening on the floor in the sitting room, some Star Wars (Star Trek?) film is playing in the background, and the smell of fish and chips permeates everywhere.

Bernie takes refuge in the kitchen for a minute and makes brief eye contact with the cat perched above the fridge, judging everyone below him.

“Sorry about all this,” Bernie mutters to the cat, and thinks she must have gone mad. Muttering to a cat at a party full of people she works with.

But Serena is nowhere to be found, and Dom is off flirting. Some wing-man he made out to be. Bernie has been nursing a beer for the last hour, and has no real intention of finishing it. It’s just nice to be able to do something with her hands. She never knows what to do with her hands in these situations. Social gatherings. They occur at an alarming frequency and Bernie wishes she was better at this, at talking to people. She wishes she could find Serena.

The house is hot and full of people and Bernie gets a little overwhelmed when she tries to mingle. She takes a deep breath and smiles and tries to not come across as an overbearing boss, but feels like her smile is too toothy. Does she smile with her mouth open? Who fucking knows.

So she escapes to the garden just as the fireworks erupt. The rest of the house is preoccupied with an arm wrestling match that has captured everyone’s attention. Ric vs. Matteo. From the way people are cheering you’d think it was the match of the century. The crowd is divided and rallying behind their champion and there’s a whole lot of shouting and normally it would be right up Bernie’s ally but she’s hot and tired, so she slips out unseen to watch the fireworks.

It’s beautiful and loud and the air smells of smoke so Bernie takes out a cigarette and lights it. She takes her first drag and sighs, looking up at the sky. The moon is there too, intermingled with the fireworks. A blaze of colour with a perfect silver moon behind it. The cigarette is almost burnt out when she hears footsteps on the grass.

She doesn’t turn around, doesn’t want to break the spell of solitude, doesn’t want to see anyone really. She wishes she was home in bed. She’s so tired.

“Mind if I join you?” comes a voice from behind her.

Bernie doesn’t turn around. Can’t turn around, because they’re alone and Bernie is afraid of what she’ll say when they’re alone in moonlight. Serena comes closer anyway. They stand side by side, as the fireworks keep going off, and Bernie thinks its rather silly. Romantic, even. She finally looks at Serena. And of course Serena is glowing, looks radiant, in fact. Bernie’s breath hitches as Serena looks away from the fireworks and right into Bernie’s eyes. Her face is a little rosy, and Bernie notices that Serena’s got an empty bottle of shiraz in her hand. She looks nervous, and Bernie tries not to hightail it out of there.

“I tried to find you earlier,” Serena says. “I couldn't find you.”

“I was in the kitchen,” Bernie confesses. “Hiding.”

Serena is silent for a beat. “I was hiding too.”

Bernie furrows her brow in confusion.

“That’s why I changed our schedules,” Serena explains.  “I was hiding.”

“Oh,” Bernie whispers. She looks into Serena’s eyes and it takes all of her might not to look at Serena’s lips. “But you’re not hiding now?”

“No,” Serena says carefully. “I’m not hiding now.”

Bernie wants to kiss her. She wants to kiss her so very badly. But Serena’s been drinking, and there’s a house full of their colleagues, and it doesn't feel right. Even if there are fireworks. Serena seems to notice Bernie’s hesitation, and her face falls a bit. She suddenly looks very determined. 

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

Bernie nods, slightly confused by the change of topic.

“You said I was beautiful,” Serena murmurs. Her voice is breathless and she's stepped a bit closer and Bernie closes her eyes because it’s too much. “Do you know how long it had been since anyone said something like that to me?”

Bernie opens her eyes because Serena is right there. She’s standing so close and her eyes are big and open and Serena looks so beautiful. She’s put the bottle of shiraz on the ground and her right hand comes up to play with the collar of Bernie’s white shirt.

“I love it when you wear this shirt,” Serena whispers reverently, as she holds the fabric. Her knuckles graze Bernie’s neck, and Bernie holds in a gasp. Her other hand comes up to straighten the already perfectly pressed collar. Her fingers linger. “You always look so beautiful,” she says as Bernie just stares at her. 

_Fuck._

Bernie doesn’t know what to say, still doesn’t know what to do with her hands, so she doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t do anything. Serena’s eyes are all hazy and Bernie desperately wants to kiss her. But there’s an empty bottle of shiraz in the grass by their feet, and Serena’s face is flushed with wine. Bernie couldn’t do it, won’t kiss Serena for the first time when she’s half gone at a party full of their colleagues.  

So she doesn’t lean in when Serena licks her lips, and doesn’t interrupt when Serena starts to speak.

“I’m in love with you Bernie.” It’s almost a sob, and Bernie notices that Serena is trembling. Her hands are shaking as they come up to frame Bernie’s face. “I didn't know what it was for the longest time, and I hated you for making me feel like that. I was jealous of everyone you got along with. Jealous at Albies when you were so relaxed with everyone. I was so mad when you were just as good as me in theatre. And I was jealous because I thought you had a partner, and I-"

Her voice cracks at this and she’s starting to cry. Tear tracks slip down her cheek and Bernie finally knows what to do with her hands. She wipes them away with her thumb, and her chest tightens at the way Serena's eyes slip shut at her touch. Bernie’s chest tightens even further when she realizes that although she had felt sick with love for months, Serena had been dying. Dying of such love, or so it seemed. Bernie needs to do something, anything. 

“Come here,” Bernie whispers, and pulls Serena to her. Serena whimpers and buries her face into the crook of Bernie’s neck, and cries a little. Her cold nose is against Bernie’s neck, and Bernie’s breath hitches at the feeling.

“I love you,” Serena whimpers again. Her voice is muffled by tears, and her face is still buried into Bernie’s shoulder. But Bernie can’t bear to stop holding her. It’s so good, to hold her after all this time. The autumn air is cold and the fireworks have ended, and Serena is clinging to her. Bernie wonders how long its been since someone held Serena Campbell.

She drops a quick kiss to Serena’s temple, soothes her through it, until she’s stopped crying.

“I love you too,” she murmurs into Serena's hair. “But we should talk, and not when there’s alcohol and about fifty people a few meters away.”

Serena nods, sniffles, and Bernie tries not to think about how adorable she is like this. All warm and close and so wonderfully soft.

“It’s our day off tomorrow,” Serena suggests. “Coffee?”

“My place?”

“God no, you probably have terrible coffee.”

Bernie smiles. “I really do, it's awful actually.” She rubs her hands up and down Serena's back. 

Serena nuzzles impossibly further into Bernie’s neck. She sighs when Bernie kisses her temple again.  “Come to mine in the morning?” Her voice is light and Bernie can tell she’s nervous.

“Alight,” she says cheekily, and can't help but break the mood, because she's utterly useless as ever. “It’s a date mate.”

Bernie can feel Serena roll her eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Serena’s home is lovely and warm. Like something out of a film, soft and tended to with care, almost immaculate. The kitchen has copper pans hanging from hooks, a large stove, and a beautiful kettle that’s just about to boil.

“Go through,” Serena says by the back door.  Bernie walks through Serena’s home for the first time and tries not to fixate on how nervous Serena seems. She’s wringing her hands and seems unsure where to put Bernie. So she just sits down on the sofa, places her hands on her lap and waits.

“Right,” Serena murmurs. She’s staring, and Bernie smiles, hopes it seems reassuring. She watches Serena watch her, and realizes they’ve been doing this for months. Watching and waiting. Bernie can hardly wait for the waiting to be over.

The kettle begins to boil, and Serena excuses herself, slips back into the kitchen. Bernie would offer to help but she think she needs the moment to gather herself. They're really going to do this. Talk about this thing between them. Its bloody terrifying, and Bernie had rehearsed what she was going to say in the shower. Take things slow, enjoy the moment. She hopes Serena understands.

Serena was in love with her.

Bernie smiles again at the thought. The realization she’d had this morning when she woke up and suddenly remembered that what had happened had not been a dream.

Serena loves her.

And Bernie is determined not to fuck it up.

Serena comes back in with one of those fancy pour over coffee things. Of course, she’s got one of those. She pours the water slowly and Bernie watches her arms, watches her delicate wrist, watches Serena in the morning light. It’s just gone 8 o’clock.

Serena sits down next to Bernie on the sofa, turns and looks right at her.

“So what do you think?” Serena asks quietly.

“About what?”

Serena rolls her eyes. “About… us.” Her voice peters out to an exasperated whisper and she turns away, busing herself with the cups, filling them three quarters with coffee, adding milk without needing to ask. She hands over the navy blue mug and Bernie takes it, cradles it between her fingers and blows softly. Takes a sip.

It almost sounds like a slurp, it's so quiet. Jason and Elinor are still asleep and the house is nearly still. It is Saturday, after all.

Bernie takes in a breath and places the mug back onto the coffee table.

“I think we should take it slow,” Bernie says.

Serena nods.

“Dinner dates, and… stuff.”

“Stuff?” Serena raises that perfect eyebrow in amusement.

“Yeah…” Bernie murmurs with a soft smile. “Stuff.”

“And I thought you’d be the one with all the suaveness,” Serena chuckles.

“I can be suave!” she protests, her smile getting wider.

“All evidence to the contrary, darling.”

Bernie goes still. She tries not to let the term of endearment affect her too much, but it goes right through her, seeps everywhere, and Bernie wants to ask her to say it again. She doesn’t though, because they’re going to take it slow. Bernie prays she doesn't muck this up.

Serena seems to have heard what she says, blushes, and Bernie finds herself falling even deeper. Serena hastily finishes her coffee, looks at Bernie. She looks like she’s about to apologize, and Bernie can’t have that, won’t have that. She refuses to let Serena feel sorry for liking her, for wanting her. So Bernie reaches out and places her hand over Serena's. Serena immediately covers Bernie’s hand with her other hand and squeezes gently.

“Look, Serena-” Bernie whispers.

“Yes?”

Her eyes are so big and so hopeful and Bernie drowns in them. Serena’s eyes are so very brown and sparkling and Bernie can’t help but lean in.

“You have beautiful eyes,” she says quietly.

Serena leans in too, and Bernie feels like throwing herself at the woman. She wants nothing more than to yield to all this desire and want, to finally surrender to what she wants so very badly. She watches Serena swallow, and Bernie takes in a shuddering breath and slowly raises her hand to cup Serena's cheek.

Serena’s eyes go half lidded, nearly slipping shut at her touch, and Bernie marvels at how warm her cheek is. The  skin is soft under her thumb.

“May I kiss you?” Bernie asks in a hushed whisper.

“Yes,” Serena whimpers.

And then Bernie kisses her. Serena’s lips are soft and gentle and it’s all so utterly wonderful that it makes Bernie’s chest hurt. It’s a chaste kiss, as far as kisses go, just a gentle brushing of lips, but Bernie feels overwhelmed and pulls back after a minute. She brings up her other hand to frame Serena’s face, both hands now resting on Serena’s warm cheeks.

Bernie looks at Serena and grins.

Serena’s eyes are still shut, and her blush is everywhere now. Her cheeks are all rosy, her neck is flushed, and she’s breathing heavily. Bernie can’t resist such a sight, and leans in to kiss just below Serena's ear.

“God,” Serena moans.

Bernie smiles into her neck, breaths into her ear, and pulls her close. She sighs when she feels Serena’s hands settle on her waist. She can feel Serena melting, weakening and relaxing into her embrace, until she’s almost holding her up. Serena rests her forehead on Bernie’s shoulder and heaves in a shuddering sigh.

Bernie kisses Serena’s temple, just as she had last night. Kisses her neck and notes Serena’s shiver. She breathes her in, nuzzling into Serena’s neck.

“I like your neck,” she whispers earnestly into Serena’s ear, smiling when she sees Serena shiver again. She likes that even simple touches like these can elicit such a reaction. The Ice Queen melteth indeed. Although Serena had never come across as icy to Bernie. Rather more like fire, hot and dangerous and utterly irresistible. Like a moth to a flame, Bernie wants to touch Serena everywhere, wants to have her in every which way. She’s had so many fantasies, months of pure torture, and now she can finally touch her. Bernie nips Serena’s earlobe and gently bites down when Serena gasps.  

Then, she tries her tongue down Serena’s neck. It’s wet and hot and Bernie licks her until Serena moans. Bernie grins, traces her pulse point, nips and listens to Serena whisper something. It might have been Bernie’s name, she’s not entirely certain. But the breathy noise makes Bernie’s whole body throb with want and she realizes she has to stop.

So she pulls back before she gets carried away, looks at Serena again, all wound up and glorious.

“Is that your idea of slow?” Serena huffs after a minute. She’s not even able to open her eyes just yet.

“Something like that,” Bernie says. She feels infinite tenderness and longing. She wants to take Serena to bed.

But there’s quiet sounds meandering down the stairs. Someone's up, probably Jason, and Bernie watches Serena finally gather herself enough to open her eyes. It’s 8:30 on a Saturday morning and Bernie Wolfe is in love.

There’s footsteps on the floor above them, and Bernie knows it’s time for her to go.

“Shall I see myself out?” Bernie asks.

Serena shakes her head. “No, I’ll walk you to the door.”

Bernie follows, through the pantry, around the island in the immaculate kitchen, round the corner, and to the back door. She slips her shoes on as Serena watches. She puts on her pink coat, and reaches for her scarf. It’s not on the hook, and she looks over to see Serena holding the black cashmere between her fingers. Serena steps forward, raises her arms, and ever so slowly winds the scarf around her neck.

It’s shockingly intimate, and Bernie is suddenly reminded that 12 hours ago she wasn’t even sure if Serena liked her, let alone loved her. Serena is someone who hides in plain sight, behind a profession, behind her surgical mask, behind her icy exterior. It’s all crumbling away in the foyer, and Bernie feels humbled to see this version of Serena. This Serena, who looks soft and touches Bernie and kisses her. The Serena who leans up on her tiptoes and gives Bernie a quick goodbye kiss. Their first goodbye kiss.  

“Bernie,” Serena murmurs, just as Bernie places her hand on the door knob. She turns back and notices Serena seems nervous again.

“Would you mind… would you mind if we kept this between us? Just for now.”

Bernie’s heart constricts and suddenly worries that Serena regrets it. Regrets hiring her, regrets kissing her, regrets loving her. But Serena shines and shines and says softly, before Bernie's thoughts run away from her.

“I just want it to be for us. I want to see where this goes, without the pressure of other people’s opinions.”

“Other people’s opinions don’t matter,” Bernie argues quickly.

“Yes, Bernie,” Serena says softly. “They do.”

The shower upstairs turns on, and Bernie remembers that Serena doesn’t live alone. She suddenly remembers that rumors and whispers could reach her home, could twist and turn the truth. Bernie wants to take things slow, and Serena wants privacy and agency while they find their feet.

Bernie nods, and smiles. She feels she understands Serena a little bit better.

"Thank you for coming," Serena murmurs. 

“I’ll see you Monday,” Bernie says softly, and the door clicks shut behind her.

…

The thing is, Bernie does not have game.

She’s hopeless at flirting, can’t take most things seriously, forgets birthdays and other important dates, and would rather spend an evening in then go out to a posh restaurant. All of these things mean she spends the majority of Sunday moping about her flat, trying to wrap her head around the latest disaster: How to seduce Serena Campbell.

Not necessarily seduce, as in bed her. But courtship. Flowers and restaurants and cinemas, and all the things that Serena deserves in a partner. It means Bernie should really find her hairbrush. It’s somewhere around here. It also means Bernie has to prepare to be emotionally vulnerable. Has to be the best she can be. It means Bernie is going to be dating. Going on dates. Outside the hospital and outside her flat.

Yikes.

Her relationship with Marcus had been born out of friendship, and had just sort of happened. And then suddenly they were married, mates who were married. Married mates.

Alex had just sort of happened as well, although there were no dinner dates or flirting. It was more like snogging in the supply closet, gazing at each other from across crowded tents, and sneaking out of each other's bunks late at night.  Not very romantic, and not sustainable either.

This is the first time in twenty years that Bernie is going to be out there in the world, doing her thing. Going on dates. Without any suaveness. It’s hopeless, and Bernie settles down on her futon in front of the tele and worries about how she’s going to go about actually deserving Serena.

This is how Cameron finds her, sprawled out and watching some football match that she’s not actually paying attention to.

“Mum…” he says slowly.

“Son,” she huffs.

Cameron’s concern quickly disappears and a shit-eating grin takes over his stupid face.

“What’s her name?” he teases gently.

Bernie scowls at the tele, doesn’t even look at him. How very humiliating, to be so transparent.

Cameron collapses into the armchair next to the futon and grins some more.

“You might as well tell me, Mum. I’m here for Sunday dinner and I’ll stay until I weasel it out of you.”

Bernie sighs, and turns the tele off. Tosses the remote onto the table and turns to her smug child.

“Her name… is Serena,” she confesses. It feels wonderful even saying her name.

“And this is the one you’ve been pining after for the last six months, yeah?”

“I haven’t been pining!”

Cameron scoffs.

Bernie looks down at her hands. She needs to cut her nails.

“Tell me about her over Chinese?”

Bernie sighs. She never could hide anything from Cameron for very long anyway. “The menu is on the fridge.”

It’s an hour later, when they’re eating rice and sweet and sour chicken that Cameron brings Serena up again. She tells him everything. Well, not everything. But tells him that Serena is a vascular surgeon, a bloody good one too. She has a daughter and a nephew and she’s cold yet somehow warm, cruel and kind, distant but intense. Cameron just keeps grinning.

“You’ve got a bae, Mum!”

“A what?”

“Its slang, for girlfriend, mum. All the kids are saying it,” he proclaims.

“She’s not my girlfriend yet Cam. And certainly not my ‘bae’”.

“But she loves you?”

Bernie smiles at the memory of Serena standing in her kitchen, with flowers on the window sill and the smell of coffee in the air.

“Yes,” Bernie whispers. “Yes she does.”  

“I can’t wait to tell Lottie,” Cam announces, as he immediately pulls out his phone and starts texting. “She’s gonna flip.”

Bernie groans.

…

Monday arrives much too quickly and Bernie keeps expecting everyone to know that something monumental has happened between her and Serena. But nobody treats her any different. Morven gets excited about a case, Fletch is as hilarious as ever, Raf is right there to laugh at Fletch’s jokes, and Serena nearly makes an F1 cry. It’s a typical Monday.

The red phone rings, and Serena calls Bernie into theatre. It’s messy, bloody, and exhausting. It takes up the rest of the shift, and Bernie is bone tired by the time they wheel out the patient to ICU. 

Serena is in the scrub room, slowly peeling off her gloves, then her gown, then takes off her leopard print scrub cap. She’s got a bad case of scrub cap hair, and her short hair is all spiky and askew. She runs her hand through it, taming the stray locks and looks over at Bernie. 

“You’re staring,” she tuts. 

“Sorry,” Bernie mumbles before glancing away to the floor. 

“Don’t be.” 

Bernie looks up at that and watches Serena slowly put her delicate earrings back in. When she’s all done, she sighs, and turns away from the mirror above the sinks. She looks nervous and tired and beautiful. 

“Would you like to have dinner with me on Friday? We could go anywhere you like?” 

Bernie nods and smiles and Serena blushes again. It’s silent for a moment, and they’re just looking at each other, smiling softly. And then Bernie opens her mouth without really thinking. 

“I recently learned the term bae,” Bernie tells her proudly. 

“Oh god,” Serena mutters, already prepared for the pun. 

“And I guess you could say,” Bernie says as she steps forward, “that you’re my trauma bae.” 

“I regret everything,” Serena says, but she’s smiling and shining and Bernie takes another step so that they’re standing toe to toe. Serena is so soft like this, and Bernie tries to remember a time when she wasn’t completely in love. 

“May I kiss you goodnight?” 

They're all alone and it’s quiet outside theatre. Serena swallows and glances down at Bernie’s lips. She nods, leans in as Bernie leans down a bit to brush their lips together softly, momentarily. They’re taking things slow. 

Serena sighs against her, and Bernie brings a hand up to cup her cheek. It’s only a moment, but it seems to last forever. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Serena murmurs. She’s blushing and Bernie has to kiss her just one more time.

“Goodnight,” she says, as she watches Serena disappear through the double doors. 

Bernie grins like a fool and blasts ABBA all the way home. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

They had originally said that they were taking things slow. 

“Slooooooow,” Cameron says, with his fingers wagging in ridiculously overly dramatic finger quotes. His tone is sarcastic, but he’s smiling and sweet as he putters around the kitchen. He mutters something under his breath about a u-haul, but Bernie just shakes her head and walks into the lounge. 

Bernie supposes things had moved quickly, but everything seemed so easy. The relationship bit, at least. Serena Campbell was many things, but  _ easy _ was not one of them. For one thing, she has a temper, and a way with words that can make grown men weep. Also, several neurosis about how to clean dishes. (Apparently one is supposed to clean the outside of a bowl as well? But the food wasn’t even on the outside of the bowl???)

They are very different people, who just happen to be in love with each other. It’s heavenly, wonderful, bordering on the magical. Bernie just wishes they had met sooner. Starting a whirlwind romance at 50 wasn’t what she had expected, and it’s strange, bumbling through dates and Bernie’s awkwardness. Awkwardness seems to be an ageless thing, a habit that Bernie will have for all her life. 

For example, she still has trouble reaching for Serena’s hand in the supermarket. There’s still that moment of fear, and of lingering paranoia, that someone might see. She’s not sure what people would say if they saw two surgeons strolling through the aisles, picking up food for their packed lunches. It’s just a simple, ordinary thing, holding her partner’s hand. But to her, it is everything. 

Serena loves to lead Bernie around the aisles, talking and talking, and Bernie is happy to be led. She pushes the trolley and listens and smiles as Serena rants about her day. Her anger and spark and ambition are all dazzling. Bernie thinks she’ll never be tired of it, tired of just walking and following and listening to Serena. 

She still can’t believe Serena puts up with her, poorly washed dishes and all. Cameron brings up the u-haul thing again, when they decide to move in together. It’s fast, as it’s only been six months. But it makes sense, and it's what they both want. 

Unfortunately, Serena does not want a cat. Bernie’s flat hadn’t allowed pets, but now Bernie lives in a big house with Serena and a cat would love the stairs and all the windows. 

“It’s a perfect place to perch and watch the street,” Bernie argues. 

“Cat’s don’t perch darling,” Serena dismisses. They’ve had this faux argument several times now. It’s almost a bit at this point, something to do when Bernie want to see Serena smile. 

“Cat’s definitely perch,” Bernie argues. “And  _ that _ windowsill is where Petunia will perch.” She points to the window of the dining room that looks out onto the quiet street. It’s large and has an excellent sill, and Bernie yearns for the days when she walks up to the door and sees her hypothetical cat Petunia in the window, anxiously awaiting her arrival home. 

“Petunia is a dreadful name,” Serena says, shaking her head even as she starts to smile. 

“Petunia is a dreadful name,” Bernie mocks sternly. It’s a terrible impression of Serena’s tone, but Fletch loves it when she does it at parties. And Serena always smiles when Bernie pretends to be stern. 

“Fine,” Serena surrenders. “You can get a cat when pigs fly.” 

Bernie steps closer and slowly pushes Serena up against the counter. She kisses her way up Serena’s neck, and grins against her ear when she hears Serena’s little high pitched sigh.  _ Angel Eyes _ by ABBA plays in the background. 

“How about,” Bernie whispers, “we make it more interesting.” 

“More interesting than flying pigs?” Serena whimpers, as Bernie takes an earlobe into her mouth. 

“How about, I can get a cat when the Indigo Girls release new music.”

Serena chuckles. “No, I know they’re still recording together. How about, when ABBA releases new music-” she gasps as Bernie bites down on her shoulder. 

Bernie licks the red skin she just bit and nuzzles her nose into Serena’s neck again, breathing her in. She smells like sandalwood and sunshine. “Fine,” she sighs. “We’ll get a cat when ABBA releases new music.” 

…

On April 27th, in the year of our Lord 2018, ABBA announces that they are releasing new music. 

Bernie goes to the shelter, finds the fluffiest cat she can find, falls in love with those big blue eyes, and takes her home. Petunia perches in the window and waits for them to come home every evening. She wines as they come through the door and rubs against their legs as they take off their shoes. She meows until she is fed, then saunters about the house with her fluffy tail, and sleeps on top of Bernie’s head every night. 

Serena loves Petunia and Petunia loves Serena, and a framed photograph of their bloody cat ends up on Serena’s desk at work. Petunia is a legend on the ward, and Serena, now more accessible and human to her coworkers than ever, invites them all round to meet her. 

It’s hilarious, watching a group of people trying to get a cat to like them. They make kissing noises with their mouths, use gentle voices, and crouch down on the floor. A chorus of “here kitty kitty” fills the front hall. Serena grins like a fool as Raf holds out his hand, desperate for Petunia’s favor. 

But Petunia remains aloof, and stays firmly on the seventh step of the staircase, watching warily as the gathering dissolves into a party. Serena brings out expensive wine, and a platter of cheese appears out of thin air, and Jason puts on some music. Bernie gets a little overwhelmed after a while, never one to host a party, and disappears into the kitchen. 

Petunia is there, scowling at all the ruckus. 

“Sorry about all this,” Bernie mutters. She pours some food into the little bowl, and Petunia plops down and eats happily. Bernie smiles, and remembers that party almost a year ago, when fireworks had lit up the sky and Serena had looked at her and called her beautiful. How time flies. 

...

Time flies, even though pigs don’t. Time flies and Bernie forgets their anniversary. Timing never was her strong suit. 

The florist grins when Bernie walks in, her head hanging low. 

“Shall I prepare some of Serena’s favorites?” 

Bernie just nods dejectedly, and watches forlornly as the florist waltzes about the room, gathering violets and begonias. Bernie comes here quite a lot. More often than she probably should. Mistakes are usually made in relationships, but Bernie has found that Serena’s forgiveness is usually easier to come by if she has pretty flowers in her hand. For example, in the first week Petunia was at the house, she had scratched some of the furniture in the lounge. Bernie had apologized profusely as Serena glared at the lump of fluff.

“I’ll have you killed and stuffed,” Serena had hissed, with her eyes all squinty. 

So Bernie did her best to try and defuse the situation with flowers. Serena was not amused by the bouquet of petunias that Bernie placed on the kitchen table the following afternoon. Although the scratching post from the garden centre did help, in the end.

Serena forgives her, as she always does. Timing isn’t everything, and Serena loves her. It’s real love, the kind that fills up rooms and makes Bernie feel like she’s warm and full of sunlight. Bernie still can’t believe her luck. That Serena even exists is a miracle. That Serena loves her back? Utterly ridiculous. 

But Bernie tries to be worthy of it, and tries not to be so frightened when Serena reaches for her hand in the supermarket. She places a baguette in the trolley and picks out a jam for their breakfast, then they split up when Bernie goes to fetch the eggs while Serena looks for some apples. They come back together at the checkout and walk to their car and go home. 

It is happiness. 

It is everything. 

…

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

Serena’s voice is barely a whisper. They are lying in bed, Bernie is half asleep, and Serena is looking at her with wide eyes. 

Bernie clears her throat and sits up a little bit. She tries to blink away some of her sleepiness. “Of course,” she mumbles. “Called you beautiful.” 

“You called me ‘absolutely stunning’, actually,” Serena corrects her. 

Bernie grins. “You remember my exact words?” 

“They were hard to forget,” Serena murmurs. She’s all soft and sleepy and Bernie wonders what brought this on. 

“I was right you know,” Bernie says softly. “You are stunning.” 

“I’m in my flannel pj’s Bernie-

“ _ Especially _ in flannel pj’s,” Bernie whispers. She reaches out to stroke Serena’s cheek, and feels her chest burst open when Serena leans into her touch. It’s all still heavenly, wonderful, bordering on the magical. ‘

“Sometimes,” Serena swallows. “Sometimes I think this is all a dream. That I’ll wake up and you won’t be here. That I’ll have made it all up in my head.” 

Bernie shakes her head. “It’s not a dream,” she says. She leans up and kisses Serena on the lips, and Serena pulls her closer. It’s a gentle kiss, subdued, more about reassurance than passion. Serena sinks into it, and when they part, Bernie rests her forehead on Serena’s. 

“I may be dreamy, but you’re not dreaming,” she whispers. 

Serena laughs, and does the thing with her nose. She does it when she’s happy and sleepy. After a kiss, she rubs her nose against Bernie’s, just for a moment. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Serena sighs. 

“You love me anyway,” Bernie replies, kissing Serena’s cheek and settling into the pillows a bit more. 

“Yes,” Serena whispers. “I love you anyway.” 

Petunia meows and jumps between them. 

“We’ll both be here in the morning,” Bernie promises. 

Serena nods, and after a moment, reaches over to turn out the light. Petunia kneads the bed for awhile, and Serena sighs and slips easily into slumber. Bernie watches the moon rise and thinks about her surgeries for tomorrow. She thinks about what flowers she will buy on her way home from work, plans to buy flowers just because she loves Serena and Serena loves flowers. She thinks about the way Serena softens when she sees Bernie across a crowded room. 

Bernie breathes in and out, in time with Serena’s breaths. And when she drifts to sleep, she dreams of their kitchen. She dreams of the smell of coffee and the taste of strawberry jam on french bread, and the sight of Serena there to greet her.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Supermarket thing inspired by an Alan Cumming quote.


End file.
